


starting now

by retts



Category: Real Person Fiction, Twosetviolin, Video Blogging RPF, twoset violin
Genre: Falling In Love, Friendship, Intimacy, Kickstarter, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Pre-Slash, dare i say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 11:11:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19886644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retts/pseuds/retts
Summary: Eddy pushed himself up on his elbows. ‘It’s OK, it’s probably better if I don’t sleep in the afternoon anyway or it’ll just fuck with me later.’‘Smart. You wouldn’t want to ruin your first night of good sleep in, what, nearly a week? Dude, that’s insane.’‘It is.’ Eddy shook his head, staring back at Brett in awe. ‘It still hasn’t fully sunk in yet that we did it. Did we actually do it, Brett?’Brett stood there, towel over his damp hair, dark shadows under his bare eyes, and a nearly palpable air of exhaustion around him. Brett pinched his own arm. ‘It’s not a dream, Eddy.’





	starting now

**Author's Note:**

> the last time i wrote rpf was like 5 years ago (oh wait, 1 month ago for a special exchange but yeah it's generally been ages) but there's something about the dynamic between BAE that is so beautiful, friendship or otherwise. 
> 
> this was inspired by eddy saying he had horrible insomnia after their kickstarter campaign and somehow my brain wanted to write a three part series about it. also, remaining mistakes are mine and i will edit them when it's not 2AM anymore.
> 
> ALSO LOOK HERE: if you are somehow the person named in the pairing list, or personally know the people there, turn around now, please. this is not for you.

The hotel was _heaven_. Sheer, fucking heaven. Eddy never wanted to leave this room and this bed; it felt like he was sinking into a marshmallow. He lay there with one cheek pressed against the cool duvet and his arms tucked under him. Even now, Eddy was sore all over but it was a better sort of ache, different from the pain of sleeping on unforgiving surfaces and playing the violin for endless hours. The massage had been fantastic, just like this hotel room and, specifically, this bed. The fundraising was over and Eddy was finally allowed to enjoy this little bit of luxury to his heart’s content — until checkout the next day, that is. It was still more than he’d had for the last week, which he would generously describe as hellish. Some parts were amazing, like the fans and their support, but the rest of it was painful, tiring, and, at night, actually terrifying.

Brett was in the bathroom and they’d talked about ordering room service. Eddy thought about reaching for the menu on the small table separating the two beds but couldn’t be bothered to move even the slightest bit. His mind drifted, close to napping but still clinging to wakefulness, with snippets of music ringing in the background. Eddy’s eyelashes fluttered, his breathing slowing and evening out. Curled fingers unfolded and his jaw slackened, right about to slip under —

‘Shower’s free, bro,’ said Brett, loud and clear.

It was like an audible snapping of something brittle, jerking Eddy awake. He blinked and squinted against the sudden brightness.

Brett stopped at the foot of the bed and made a face. ‘Oh, shit, were you sleeping? Sorry, Eddy.’

Eddy pushed himself up on his elbows. ‘It’s OK, it’s probably better if I don’t sleep in the afternoon anyway or it’ll just fuck with me later.’

‘Smart. You wouldn’t want to ruin your first night of good sleep in, what, nearly a week? Dude, that’s insane.’

‘It is.’ Eddy shook his head, staring back at Brett in awe. ‘It still hasn’t fully sunk in yet that we did it. Did we actually do it, Brett?’

Brett stood there, towel over his damp hair, dark shadows under his bare eyes, and a nearly palpable air of exhaustion around him. Brett pinched his own arm. ‘It’s not a dream, Eddy.’

Eddy wriggled down the foot of the bed and reached over to pinch Brett, too.

‘Did you feel that?’

Brett snorted and rubbed at his face with his palms. The towel slipped and Brett caught it and tossed it aside. His hair sprung up in every direction. With his open face, lower lip caught under his teeth, and the narrow slope of his shoulders, Brett looked stupidly vulnerable, maybe even lost. Up to this point, their lives had revolved around this crazy idea of bringing their classical comedy act on the road. They’d put all of their effort and then some into making it a reality; risking their health, safety, and sanity for a dream that most people told them was a ridiculous impossibility that they, somehow, actually managed to pull off. By the end of the experience, Brett and Eddy were humbled and drained to the core. What now? The question lingered in the air between them. The obvious next step was to plan the actual tour and execute it, which meant more energy than they had left at the moment. The daunting task chipped away at some of the euphoria of their success.

Eddy sat up and lowered his feet to the floor. He extended an arm towards the table and reached for Brett’s glasses, which were conveniently on top of the menu, and handed both to Brett.

‘What do you want to eat?’ asked Brett, slipping his glasses on, and Eddy relaxed at the sight. It was like Brett's armour. There was a moment, early in the morning, having just woken up, no coffee and no glasses, when Brett seemed too exposed, not at all like the daring person he actually was.

Eddy said, 'Anything.’

Shrugging, Brett sat down on his bed and flipped through the menu. Eddy watched him for a bit and then stood up and went over to his luggage, grabbing his pyjamas and phone charger out. He plugged in his iPhone to the wall socket, scrolled through Instagram very quickly, found nothing interesting, and then headed for the bathroom. It was still fogged up from Brett’s shower, smelling like hotel shampoo. He stripped off and went into the glass shower, gingerly twisting the tap and feeling the water’s temperature. Satisfied it wasn't going to scald his skin off, Eddy ducked under the spray and sighed in contentment. There were only a few things in life better than a hot shower. He loved a good long soak. Maybe it was an Asian thing, but he showered everyday, twice if he felt particularly sweaty and grimy. It was one of the things he missed the most during their kickstarter campaign. When he and Brett had felt too disgusting, they’d nipped over to one of their friends' houses and had a bath.

Eddy took his time lathering his hair and soaping himself down, inhaling the thick mist turning the glass opaque. His muscles loosened even more under the heat and force of the water pounding on his body. Eddy only stopped when he heard a faint knocking and then the door opening, Brett saying something muffled from outside. Eddy's fingers were starting to prune, anyway. Eddy grabbed the towel and scrubbed himself dry, then wrapped it around his head with practised ease from too many times he had to do the Tiger Mum routine. He changed into his pyjamas and rolled his used clothes neatly to be stored into his suitcase later. Eddy dabbed moisturiser on his face and poked at the spots there, scowling at his reflection. The lack of sleep had fucked his skin even more.

‘Eddy!’ Brett called from the other side of the door, rapping on it once. ‘Food’s here and I’m going to start without you!’

‘Coming!’ Eddy gave made one last scrunched up look at his reflection and turned away.

The smell of deliciousness hit him when he exited the bathroom. His nose was cleared up by the steam and he inhaled deeply, stomach rumbling. ‘Dude, that smells awesome.’

Brett was already tucked into a plate of huge steak and potatoes. ‘It tastes just as good as it looks, hmmm.’

Eddy hurriedly went over to the window and sat down across from him. The table was cluttered with a confusing mixture of dishes from different cuisines: steaks, salads, naan bread, potstickers, tofu, and two cups of hot tea.

‘Are you sure we’re not doing to get indigestion from this or something?’ asked Eddy dubiously.

Brett speared a dumpling with his fork (sacrilegious!) and gestured at Eddy with it. ‘You said "anything", bro.’

‘You’re right, I did say that.’

‘Go on, eat. It’ll be fine.’

And because Brett had this weird superpower in convincing him into doing stuff, Eddy dug in. Each dish tasted amazing, richer and more flavoursome than usual. It had been five days of junk food and boba and whatever snacks kind fans gave them, so eating proper food was nothing short of orgasmic.

Brett snickered at him, eyes crinkling behind his glasses. ‘Bro, you should see your _face_.’

‘Huh?’

‘You just look really funny eating, is all.’

‘I’m so hungry, man.’

‘I know! I feel like I haven’t eaten properly in forever.’

‘That was so unhealthy. Our mums are going to scold us so hard.’

‘I mean, well, I’m probably going to leverage a meal out of this from her.’

‘Same. I’ll try to trick her into making ma po tofu.’

‘Eddy, mate, ring me up when she does. I love mum but she overcooks the tofu every single time.’

‘Yuck, soggy tofu.’

‘All this talk makes me miss stinky tofu,’ said Brett in Chinese, putting down his fork with a clatter. He took a drink of tea. ‘Taiwan is on our list and I can’t fucking wait.’

‘Oh, my God, yes, stinky tofu!’ exclaimed Eddy. ‘Let’s go right now, dude.’

Brett grinned at his excitement. ‘Whoa, we still have to plan everything, though. It’ll be ages before we can actually go.’

Eddy made a face. ‘I hate planning. I’m already tired just thinking about it.’

‘Me, too. That whole kickstarter thing, well, kicked my ass, man.’

‘How did we even survive that?’ asked Eddy, his voice going a little high.

‘I dunno, Eddy, sheer fucking luck, probably. It’s a miracle we didn’t die. Remember that guy who was staring at me when I was sleeping? _Fuuuuuck_.'

‘I don’t — we were really crazy. Our violins could have been stolen!'

‘Yup, mental, I can’t believe you actually agreed to do it.’

‘You talked me into it.’

‘I was kind of, well, expecting you to say no and then I wouldn’t have pushed for it. Maybe. Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore because we did it.’ Brett’s eyes widened. ‘Wow. We actually did it, Eddy. I’m, like, proud of us.’

‘Bro, we don’t have to film ourselves sleeping anymore,’ said Eddy, the fork pausing halfway to his mouth. He still couldn’t believe some of the things they’d done. Who live streamed themselves sleeping outside on a park bench as a way to raise money? Twoset Violin, apparently.

Giggling, Brett slapped his forehead with his palm. ‘Fuck, why did we even do that?’

‘I don’t know! Whose idea was it?’

‘I don’t know!’

‘I bet it was yours,’ said Eddy.

Brett nodded in agreement. ‘Probably. It was amazing, though.’

‘Yeah.’

‘And really shit at the same time.’

‘Oh, _yeah_.’

They caught each other’s eye and burst out laughing, and then coughing, Eddy doubled over with the fork clenched in his fist so the piece of steak fell off from how hard he was shaking. Brett rubbed his eyes, pushing his glasses up over his hand, and then knuckled at his nose. Every time they looked at each other, they dissolved into fresh giggles. It was as cathartic as crying had been.

The mood softened after that, and Eddy finished his meal in silence. Brett tucked his feet under his thighs and spun his phone with his fingers. It was a graceful movement, finger joints flexing and rolling from years and years of the violin and creating a natural dexterity and fluidity that was hypnotising to watch. They were violinist’s hands, slender and agile, and it was crazy because Eddy knew Brett could be quite clumsy about everything else. Twoset had done enough skits on that old joke (but not really) about bigger, longer hands having an advantage when playing an instrument, and Eddy had them but they didn’t look more aesthetically pleasing on the violin. Brett‘s hands were nice, though. Long and slim, in proportion to the width of his palms, looking almost dainty even when they produced a rich, lovely vibrato.

Eddy swallowed the last of his tea and thought, _What the hell am I thinking?_

Something must have shown on his face because Brett raised an eyebrow. ‘You look like you saw a viola.’

A smile quirked Eddy’s lips. ‘It’s nothing, just thinking about how sore my hands are.’

Brett groaned and flexed his fingers, phone dropping to his lap. ‘Tell me about it! And my shoulders are still killing me, dude.’

‘If we hadn’t reached our goal yesterday and had to busk again today, I reckon I would drop my violin for sure, my hands are that tired. It was kind of like developing your callouses for the first time.’

‘Oh, ugh, brings back horrible memories. I probably won’t be practising for a few days to give my hands a break. Sorry, violin,’ Brett said, pitching his voice louder and glancing at his black case laid out carefully on the floor.

‘That’s a great excuse,’ said Eddy with a wheeze, ‘I played on my violin so much that I can’t even practice anymore!’

Out of nowhere, Brett yawned hugely, prompting a similar reflex in Eddy.

‘Gah, I’m so tired I could sleep for a week,’ mumbled Brett, blinking the yawn-induced tears away.

‘Isn’t that the plan, though?’

‘So, we agree, then? No planning for a week?’

‘Yeah, sure, if that’s alright with you?’

Brett spread his hands and gestured between them. ‘I don’t think we’re at a hundred percent efficiency right now, Eddy.’

‘True, true.’

‘OK, cool. It’s settled. I’ll ring someone to get this sorted.’

Eddy stood up and stretched, another tired yawn overtaking him. He scratched at his belly under his shirt and rolled his shoulders to loosen them. His bed was only a few steps away and he fell back on it with a bounce, then rolled about with one corner of the duvet in his grip until he was enveloped thoroughly like a burrito. Brett shot him an amused look and picked up the phone, tossing Eddy the remote control with his other hand. Eddy wriggled an arm free and turned on the telly, surfing for something interesting before settling for what looked like a rerun of last year’s Masterchef. He let it play, blinking at the screen where the contestants were running about like headless chickens.

The knock on the door startled Eddy from the half-doze he’d unknowingly fallen into and he jumped out of bed, cursing when he had to extricate himself from a cocoon of his own making, and let housekeeping inside to collect the dirty dishes. Eddy shook his head to disperse the fog still gathered behind his eyes as he closed the door.

‘No sleeping yet,’ he mumbled to himself with a pinch of his cheek.

The bathroom door opened and Brett stepped out, took one look at Eddy, and chuckled. ‘You could just sleep if you’re really tired, Eddy.’

‘But what if I wake up and then can’t go back to sleep?’ whinged Eddy, scrubbing at the back of his head and resting his hands there, fingers linked together. ‘Besides, I’m still full. It’s like swimming, isn’t it? You have to wait an hour.’

Brett clapped him on the shoulder. ‘If you can wait for that long.’

‘You look suspiciously energetic,’ said Eddy, narrowing his eyes.

‘It’s because I handle lack of sleep better than you do,’ smirked Brett.

Eddy huffed and stuck out his tongue. ‘Awesome.’

Brett shook his head and gave Eddy a small push towards the bathroom. ‘Go brush your teeth. I’m going to look for memes to distract you.’

‘For an hour?’ asked Eddy hopefully.

‘Yeah, bro.’

Eddy did as he was told and rinsed his hands after, splashing his face with cold water to wake himself up even more. Brett was stretched out on his own bed when Eddy came back out. His ankles were crossed over one another, socked toes wiggling idly. Eddy checked on his phone and made a disgusted noise. 'Bro, I reckon my phone's fucked from streaming. It's been an hour and it's only at 40%.'

'Mine's alright, though, just let it charge overnight and, like, keep an eye on it it tomorrow. Check this out, Eddy.'

Eddy put his mobile down after making sure he didn't have any unread texts and went to bed, crawling up on it until he was sat next to Brett, their backs to the headboard. A second later, Eddy slid lower and shimmied under the blanket. Brett angled his phone so Eddy could see.

It was a Roll Safe meme. 'You don't have to face reality if you're always sleeping — dude! You're supposed to be distracting me from sleeping.'

Brett laughed into his fist, shoulders shaking. Eddy could feel it on one side of his body. As always, it was contagious, because Brett looked dumbed when he laughed.

'Sorry, man, I just saw it and I couldn't resist.'

Eddy propped his head up on his fist and reached out and scrolled through Brett's feed. 'Do you only follow meme accounts, Brett?'

'Uh, yeah, they're the only ones worth following. And Hilary Hahn, of course.'

'The only Queen.'

'Of the universe.'

'We should do a video with her,' said Eddy.

Brett snorted and mimed making a phone call. 'Uh, yeah, easy, let me ring her and ask her if she wants to be in our videos.'

'Like, can you even imagine?' Eddy's elbow collapsed and he snuggled back on the pillow, staring dreamily up at the ceiling. 'That would be so epic.'

'Epically epic out of every epic thing in the world,' said Brett, equally dreamy.

They both sighed at the same time.

'OK, back to the memes,' said Brett, and he shifted closer until Eddy's head was pressing lightly against his hip. Eddy yawned and fought back the drowsiness. 'Hey, this is funny!'

Eddy let Brett show him meme after meme, content to listen to Brett's huffs of amusement or disgust. He curled on his head, one arm tucked under the pillow to support his head. At first, he was paying attention, laughing along with Brett at the worst humanity had to meme, but one second he would be staring at a dog gif and the next he would be blinking himself awake because he nodded off. This happened a few times and Eddy didn't know how long they lasted. It must be only a few minutes at a time because Brett was still in the same position beside him, tired eyes staring at his phone. Every time it happened, Eddy resolved to stay awake. A blink later, he was proven wrong. Eddy even literally jolted awake, startling Brett into fumbling his mobile and nearly dropping it on Eddy's face.

'Far out, what was that?'

Eddy winced in embarrassment, his palm over his eyes. 'God, I'm sorry, Brett, I'm trying so hard not to fall asleep that my brain is literally shocking me awake, I think.'

Sighing in exasperation, Brett gently nudged Eddy's foot with his own. 'Then, go to sleep, Eddy.'

'I want to,' said Eddy unhappily, 'but my brain won't let me.'

'That doesn't make any sense because your brain is the one that falls asleep.'

'Part of my brain, then.'

'You've gone crazy, haven't you?' There was a tinge of amusement in Brett's voice and a moment later, Eddy felt a hand stroking his head. 'Go to sleep, Eddy.'

'Keep doing that,' Eddy mumbled, eyes falling shut. The gentle touches seemed to roll down the rest of Eddy's body. Brett's fingers were gentle, sifting through his hair, lightly massaging his skull. He really had no problem falling asleep; it was staying that way that was tricky. Eddy sighed and tucked his head down. There was a faint melody playing in the back of his head. Debussy, Rêverie. How apt. His brain really wanted to sleep, now. He remembered his sister playing this when they were kids. Eddy let his focus drift away from the soft passes of Brett's fingers and floated down the piano keys.

coda

Eddy woke up abruptly, eyes flying open. His head was a heavy drag of unremembered dreams and exhaustion. The room was dark and it took a moment to reorient himself: the project, the hotel, Brett's memes, sleep. Eddy was about to sit up when he noticed the heavy weight across his waist. It was too dark to see and Eddy spread his fingers wide over — oh — an arm, flung over him. Brett's arm, because who else would it be?

Brett stirred, nothing more than shadows beside him. 'Wha — Eddy — '

'Why are you in my bed?' asked Eddy, his voice scratchy with sleep.

Brett must be twitching or shifting or moving because Eddy can feel the motion, slight as it was, from the arm still holding him down. 'You're in my — fuck, does it matter? Shh, go back to sleep, Eddy, shhhh.'

'I can't,' whispered Eddy.

'Shhhhh, go on,' the rest of Brett's words were lost in indecipherable mumbling and a huff that was part-snore.

Eddy didn't think he would be able to fall asleep again but he closed his eyes, listened to Brett's even breathing, felt the warmth beside and over him, and did just that.

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is love! this is a tiny fandom we have, so hello :)


End file.
